


Here is Gone

by jendavis



Category: Leverage
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-04
Updated: 2011-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jendavis/pseuds/jendavis





	Here is Gone

It probably wouldn't have happened if they'd been sober, but they probably wouldn't have been any better off. Tension had been rising for weeks, and tempers with it.

Alec didn't even know who shouted first- Eliot walked out the moment Alec kicked him out, so it ended in a draw. Ten months boiled down to a drunken shouting match and a slamming door.

\---

That was two weeks ago.

\---

 

Alec spent a lot of time wondering what it had all been about, how it got started. It could've been the last job, or the one before that. The stress of trying to keep the team together until after Nate's sentencing. Too much time spent in close quarters with nothing to do. Lack of sleep, because Eliot woke so damned easy and so damned often. The usual fallout from trying to shoehorn each other into their regularly scheduled lives. Maybe they'd just been building up to it.

He'd called Eliot's cell, five or six times. He'd left messages, asking him, but Eliot hadn't answered. He'd run every search he knew, trying to track him down, he'd even gone to his _house_ , but Eliot had gone off the grid. If it hadn't been for Sophie and Parker's repeated assurances that he'd checked in, that he was _safe_ , he would've broken through the door. But neither of them would tell him anything _more_.

Hell, it could've been anything, that night. But the tequila certainly hadn't helped.

It wasn't giving him any answers now, either.

\---

He was promising himself that he'd try calling again in the morning, once he'd sobered up and slept it off. Setting the glass next to the overflowing sink, he wandered back through the apartment, checking all the windows. It was still raining outside.

The usual notification popped up on the screen when he set the security system, reminding him to change the password again. He was getting good at ignoring it, and shut off the lights before heading back into the bedroom. He'd gotten his socks off when there came a pounding at the front door, loud, insistent, and likely to wake the neighbors if unanswered for long.

Dashing across the apartment, he opened the door to find Eliot, breathing wild and already crashing against him, pressing close and wrapping his arms around Alec's waist.

And _fuck_ , Eliot was soaked, _shaking_ with adrenaline. Alec thought about pulling away, about turning the lights on to check him for injuries, but it was too late. The damage to his shirt was already done, so he just held on, tight, like he was applying pressure to some wound, keeping Eliot's blood inside of him.

\---

"I'm sorry," Eliot kept repeating into his collar, not loosening his grip or trying to shake free of Alec's. "Sorry. Won't happen again, I promise."

Alec rocked them both back and forth, talking into Eliot's hair with one eye on the hallway. They needed to take this inside. Whatever _this_ was, but Eliot's voice was muffled, low, and if the pounding at the doors hadn't brought Ms. Ross from across the hall, she wasn't going to come looking now.

Eliot's hold loosened for a moment, but he was merely adjusting his grip, pressing his forehead against Alec's shoulder, the side of his neck. Alec could feel hot breath on his chest, and knew when Eliot swallowed.

"What happened?"

Eliot shook his head.

 _Okay, not yet_ , Alec allowed, rubbing Eliot's back, trying to calm him, trying to check for injuries.

His fingers found nothing more than soaked cloth.

He held on so he wouldn't have to look. Pressed a kiss against the side of Eliot's head because whatever they'd been fighting about, it mattered a thousand times less than this.

\---

They must've stood there for five minutes or more, even after Eliot's breathing slowed and Alec's heart stopped trying to beat its way out through his ribs. With a final squeeze, he pulled away a bit, but didn't let go, and Eliot followed him, head down. Alec swung the door shut and reached around for the switch.

"Gonna get the lights, okay?"

He waited for a moment, until he felt Eliot reaching up to scrub at his face as he nodded, and when the lights came on, Alec was relieved to see that it was just sweat and rain he'd been rubbing away, not blood, not even tears, and Alec didn't want to contemplate why tears would have been so much _worse_. Eliot's eyes were bloodshot, though, one was nearly swollen shut.

And he was starting to look _beyond_ mortified. Alec ushered him into the still-dark kitchen before it could get any worse, seating him at the table.

"I'm gonna get you some ice. You need bandages or anything? A hospital?"

"I'm fine," Eliot said, but didn't argue when Alec headed for the freezer, grabbing an ice pack. "You need to do the dishes," he said, when Alec grabbed two beers out of the fridge.

Alec shook his head but didn't deny it. He'd get to them.

Just not right fucking now.

\---

He nearly sat down across the table from Eliot, then decided against it, taking the chair next to his as he held out one of the bottles. His eyes had adjusted enough that the city lights coming low through the window were enough to see by, so he checked Eliot's hands as he twisted the cap off with unbroken fingers.

Alec hadn't expected them to be broken, anyhow. He'd felt how strong they still were just moments ago, wanted to feel that again, but the moment had mostly passed.

"What happened? Where've you been, man?"

Eliot snorted, shaking his head. "Around. Then I took a job. Went south."

Alec unclenched his fists, only to clench them again as he glanced towards the window, not knowing what he was dreading to find. "How _far_ south? Anyone following you?"

"No." Eliot was smirking, bemused, but after a moment he started to explain. "Started a few days ago. Old handler of mine. His current was compromised and the brass wasn't going to front the ransom. He had a team assembled but it still took a few days to set up the extraction." Eliot took a sip of beer, staring angrily at the table. "We were running it silent, but there was a leak somewhere up the chain. They were ready for us when we got there tonight. We only found out when it was too late."

"What happened?"

"We were getting his guy out, it was going fine. Way too easy, there were only two guards when there should've been four, and that was the first indication that something wasn't right. They'd set him up as a distraction and doubled back behind us. We'd taken out the guards, gotten our guy out and made it back to the handler's safe house just as a truck was pulling out."

Eliot fell silent again, and Alec was about to prompt him when he continued.

"We went inside, and. His name was Brown. My handler. Still bleeding all over his smashed computers, grabbing at them like he thought he was going to try and fix them or something." A long exhalation later, Eliot finished. "He died about a minute after we got there, and. I had to call 911 from the _car_."

Alec nodded, sensing that the worst of it was over.

"Sorry, man."

"Not your fault."

"Not yours, either," Alec assured him, and after a moment, Eliot nodded. It had been a few weeks, but Alec's memory was good and he knew that _this_ was something he'd never seen before.

"No. It was just the dry run for my worst nightmare." Eliot winced a quick humorless smile. "After that, just kinda hit my limit for being pissed off, and," he waved a hand around Alec's kitchen.

"About that," Alec tried, testing the waters a moment later. "Do you remember what we were fighting about? 'Cause I'm still hazy on the details."

"Some of it," Eliot shrugged, his voice going quiet, suddenly tense as Alec grabbed his hand. He was looking back at him now, his eyes steel, trying too hard to reveal nothing. "Does it matter?"

"Not even a little bit." Alec thought he was going to start bawling any minute here, _someone phone Oprah_. "Just. You know. Future reference. Next time we fight, I want to make sure it stays within the realm of makin' up that same night, not ending with a crime scenes two weeks later."

Eliot nodded, finally squeezed back. "I won't let it come to that."

The moment where one of them should've pulled away came and went, but Alec wasn't letting go first. Though it was starting to become awkward as hell, and he was fighting the urge to yawn. The microwave clock read 3:46 AM.

"Look, man. I don't know about you, but I'm half drunk and you're dead on your feet. I could be talked into staying up a while longer, whatever you want, long as we're in bed. Or the couch. Or possibly the floor."

Eliot looked relieved at Alec's attempt to steer them past this, and finally relaxed. " _Not_ the couch, that thing's a death-trap and you know it." He set his empty bottle back on the table and tugged at Alec as he stood, pulling him towards out the living room. "And I don't even want to _think_ about how nasty the floor is, here. Have you swept at _all?_ The tile-"

Housekeeping. It had definitely been the housekeeping, then.

Alec let Eliot's grumbling wash over him, making a note to set an alarm when they got to the bedroom.

He'd get up early. Let Eliot sleep in, and get started on the dishes.


End file.
